


hand-to-hand

by anderfels



Series: Overwatch PWP [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Breathplay, Consensual Violence, Derogatory Language, Dom/sub Undertones, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Sparring, Swearing, but not as lube god forbid, spitting, they beat each other up a bit is what i'm trying to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderfels/pseuds/anderfels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on,” Gabriel says, voice low, panting fast. Jack eyes him, tips his weight from foot to foot. “Come get me.”</p><p>  And Jack smiles, like training room 2B is the top of the world and not a small corner of a military base outside Zurich, and braces himself. “Make me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	hand-to-hand

**Author's Note:**

> more random porn and badly written action!! essentially "don't look at my fucking boner when we fight" r76 style
> 
> inspired by [this post](http://stutterwatch.tumblr.com/post/148419817628/how-do-i-explain-how-much-i-love-the-thought-of#notes), made by stutterwatch on tumblr!

  “Sloppy,” Gabriel says. He throws both hands. Jack ducks on his back foot, skips backward. He’s laughing. Hands hang in front of his face, moving with the roiling motion of his hips, pelvis and shoulders as one.

  Jack blocks him from the left. Catches his fist with the side of his hand like a blade, knocks him. Gabe counters. Elbow in, he snaps forward, pressing into Jack’s space. Jack dances and dips beneath him, smashes his shoulder into Gabriel’s stomach.

  Gabriel tips over his back heel and staggers two steps backward, snapping his arm to block the counter, and Jack relents, pulls his blonde head up. He bounces backward with a breathy laugh. “Slow,” he says, delighted, and flexes his bandaged fingers.

  He’ll give him that one.

  Gabriel rolls his head side to side, like a great bear scenting prey. His neck creaks. He straightens his t-shirt. Breathes.

  Jack meets him in the centre of the mat, furious fast and impenetrable, forearms solid, ulna bone smacking into every attacking hand. Knuckles crack into the heel of his defensive hand and he surges forward, slices around Gabriel’s counter.

  A grunt, and Gabriel pivots downward. Fingers clamp around Jack’s wrist, pull down and swing with the bend of his weighted leg. His fist snaps into Jack’s jaw. Jack swears, keeps his head tight. He twists his arm, nails scrabbling around the vice of Gabe’s hand, and pulls back, tries to tip Gabriel’s weight over into his centre of gravity.

  Gabriel drops his core. Immoveable. He snatches their locked elbows and Jack, slighter, stumbles enough for Gabe to catch his jaw again, snapping his head backward. Jack’s shoulders cave. Gabe heaves forward, steals his captured fist back and lands it into Jack’s ribs.

  “Adorable,” Gabriel says, as Jack spirals off balance, catching himself on the mat before he falls. He wipes his mouth, hollows his jaw, panting as he snarls up at Gabriel like a kicked dog.

“Shucks Gabe, you know I’m weak to those fat thighs,” he says, and smiles full of teeth, straightening back into stance.

  Gabriel laughs, making a point to duck low on his heels, showing off his quad muscles as they meet again in the centre, close enough for fingers to touch.

  The skin of Jack’s forearms is pink, and there are fingernail scratches down the length of Gabriel’s arm. It’s nothing, really. For them. Jack is the only person who still spars with Gabe, after one too many knocked-out teeth, one too many cracked ribs and broken eye sockets and furious rows with Dr. Ziegler about the already heavy workload of her medical team, without him attempting to flatten every other agent at the base through well-intentioned hand-to-hand practice.

  It’s not entirely his fault whatever was drip-fed into his bloodstream for the better part of his twenties endowed him with a punch like tempered steel. Perhaps it’s Jack’s fault, for being the only one remotely capable of understanding. And being able to punch him back just as hard.

  They bob together in place, swapping practice jabs, establishing rhythm. Jack lunges first. Gabriel smacks his punch away. Elbow up, he blocks the counter from the left. They disengage.

  Jack is smiling still. He bats Gabriel’s fists back, arms up over his face in defence. Waiting, reading the tightness in the ligaments of Gabe’s neck, his thighs. Which way next. Gabriel breaks forward again. He shoves past Jack’s arms, landing a hit to the stomach, draws back to catch him as he straightens up, but Jack never comes. His back bent low, Jack ducks the predicted counter and sidesteps, dancing  beneath the heave of Gabe’s shoulders and out to the side.

  He lunges from the right and barges him sideways, shoulder to meaty hip. The mat squeaks as Gabriel loses his feet, bends to one knee, and then Jack is on him from behind, elbow tight around the point of Gabriel’s chin.

  “So slow,” Jack says above him. He chokes, struggles. Jack is laughing, light and breathy. Gabriel folds his other knee beneath him, grasping for purchase, and throws them both backward with one lurch of his thighs, landing heavily in the snap of Jack’s spine. “Shit!”

  Jack is winded, thrashes, clutching at Gabriel’s neck. Gabe digs his shoulders downward, rearing his hips up and around in one twist. He scrabbles for the ground under his knees and his forehead is buried in Jack’s stomach, in the damp of his sweat and the puff of his breath, finally finding the ball of one foot and driving his knee into flesh, kicking into the bent swell of Jack’s thigh.

  A groaning cry and Jack releases his neck. They struggle. Gabriel pushes his advantage, pinning Jack hips over head until his knees touch the floor and his legs go still against the mat.

  Two fingers flick into the floor, a mock salute.

  He lets him up. Jack’s hips smack back to their rightful place with a grunt. His t-shirt is gathered high, and Gabriel watches the shuddering of his stomach muscles as he catches his breath, lets the world settle back into place around him.

  “What was that about slow?” Gabriel says, and Jack grins, slipping back to his feet and up to fighting stance.

  He attacks fast, cracking Gabe in the forehead before he even gets his hands up, dancing back from his counter. “Slow,” Jack says again, bouncing on his toes. His next punch is caught, but he ducks again, elbow out wide, swings low into Gabe’s side.

  Gabe pitches, grabs. He hauls Jack by the waist. Legs clash, Jack twisting his calf around Gabriel’s before they topple to the floor, grasping for anything to hold onto.

  “Fucking-” Gabriel lands heavy on his chest. He arches, folds his legs around Jack’s hips from entirely the wrong angle. But Jack has his thigh in a vice, knee pressing into his back, and he’s pulling at Gabe’s arm, yanking backward- Overbalances.

  “Fatass,” Jack groans as he lands hip-first, legs still locked around Gabriel’s thigh. Gabriel rolls, tries to twist him off. His head hits Jack’s sternum. An arm catches his neck again and Jack throws his weight, forcing Gabe over onto his knees.

  There’s a hand on his ass. Jack grabs a good handful, and his nails bite through Gabriel’s shorts before Gabe has him thudding onto his back again, crawling to capture Jack’s arms, pin them to the floor. He laughs, leans his elbow into Jack’s collarbone.

  “An ass you’d fucking dance for,” he says, crushes his whole weight downward. Jack fights, claws at his arms, loses all the air in his lungs in a desperate gasp.

  He raps his fingers twice against the floor, and Gabriel lets up, sits back on his heels.

  “Only because you ask so nicely,” Jack breathes, not bothering to hide his smile. He rears at once, on his feet in one movement, and Gabriel mirrors him, meeting again in the centre of the room.

  There’s no pause, no catching of breath. Jack lunges, jabbing forward. It’s knocked away and he tips back on his heel, snaps another punch to Gabriel’s chest. Gabe bats Jack’s hands with the sides of his, fast and choppy. He counters Jack’s uppercut. Their hands smack together, bandaged palm to palm. Gabriel twists his wrist out of Jack’s grasp and presses forward again, crowding into his space, forcing him backward.

  Jack feints left, dips on his feet and crunches his elbow into Gabriel’s ribs, dancing back beyond reach. The growl in Gabriel’s chest is sharp; he cracks Jack in the jaw, grabs for his arms. Jack twists, dodges fast and pitches his weight onto one foot in a snapping pirouette. His kick smashes beneath Gabriel’s defence into his side.

  Gabriel exhales in one, and laughs as he regains balance. “Nice legs, sunshine,” he says, hands back up, fingers flexing.

  Jack thumbs the waistband of his sweatpants, letting them shimmy down his hips. He wipes the palms of his hands on his thighs, slips down into stance. “Checking me out?”

  They clash again, a flurry of punches. Gabriel is vicious. He pitches his weight behind every movement, clattering into Jack’s defence. It’s unrelenting, sharp and hard, Jack smacking away each hand, bouncing on his back foot as if to earth Gabriel’s electricity, neutralise the charge.

  “Always,” Gabe says, and goes for the throat. Jack catches his wrist and twists, collapses the lock in Gabriel’s elbow. He stumbles, but swings with his free arm, grabbing a fistful of Jack’s shirt. They drop together, Jack rolling onto his front but caught in a vicelike hold.

  Hauling backwards, Gabe drags Jack across the mat by his waist, presses in between his knees. His t-shirt rucks beneath his armpits, and Gabriel clutches at skin, bracing one arm over Jack’s chest to get a better hold, bend him in half. Jack bucks his hips, tries to arch, lever Gabriel off him, but the weight is too much, Gabriel splaying a hand over Jack’s stomach and forcing their hips together.

  They still for a second. Jack is panting, trying to wrap his legs backward and gain some ground. And then Gabriel grinds into his ass, and Jack’s knees buckle.

  He’s laughing as he scrambles on the floor. “Fighting dirty, Gabriel,” he says, finally manages to get a knee under him and push them both backwards, Gabe falling hard on his back and letting his arms go limp. Jack tears his shirt off over his head, and the split second of distraction has Gabriel back up behind him, legs tangled around Jack’s waist and hurling him sideways.

  “You know me,” Gabe answers, panting hard and noisy, pulling one hand through his hair to push his curls from his forehead. Jack clambers up to his knees, rolls the ache from his shoulders.

  Gabriel lunges. It’s like facing a pouncing animal, but Jack dives to the side, ducking down beneath one fist. He laughs, skirting back around the mat in a half-crawl half-run, to crash sidelong into Gabriel’s hulking shoulders and force him to the floor.

  “Way too slow!” Jack says, twisting Gabriel’s arm up behind his body to pin him, seated deep between Gabe’s shoulder blades. He thrashes, rocks his hips. “Losing your edge?”

  The creature trapped beneath him snarls, arching his back. Gabriel blindly gropes behind him, fisting his free hand in the front of Jack’s sweatpants, and hauls them both sideways, shucking Jack off like a horse might flick a fly.

  Jack clatters across the floor. His sweatpants stay bunched in Gabriel’s hand, wrenched down his thighs with the force of Gabe’s throw. He sits up, bare legs, rounds on Gabriel.

  “Nice panties,” Gabe says, seizing Jack’s waist again. Jack kicks, gets his feet tangled in too much bunched fabric, and overbalances, bare chest smacking into the floor. Heavy weight grapples above him, heaving him into the air, back to Gabriel’s chest. He loses his sweatpants in the process, wraps his arms back and around Gabriel’s neck and crushes forward, twists, slams Gabe back down.

  “You are such-” Jack punches him in the jaw. “A fucking-” Gabe pitches upward, kicks Jack in the stomach. “ _Asshole_.”

  Jack rears from the floor, elbows him in the neck and crawls over him. He’s pressing close, raking at Gabriel’s shirt, hand closing on his cheek and then he’s kissing him, frantic and desperate.

  Gabriel laughs, grabbing a handful of Jack’s hair and crushing their lips, breath rattling. He indulges, Jack’s tongue on his teeth, his fingers seeking Gabe’s skin beneath his shirt. Another kiss and Gabriel pushes him backward, strands of Jack’s hair caught between his knuckles as he sprawls away across the floor.

  Jack swears, lips red. He rolls into a crouch, drags a hand over his wet mouth, and he’s back on his feet, closing the gap. Gabriel ducks underneath him, swings his weight wide and tackles Jack around the knees. His skin is clammy, sweating hard, and Gabriel’s feet slip on the mat enough for Jack to land a kick to his cheek. He recoils, hissing like a rattlesnake, and Jack is again in his space, straddling his chest to wrestle Gabriel’s t-shirt over his shoulders.

  They relent enough to get it off. Jack grinds into Gabe’s chest, and the outline of his erection clearly bobs beneath the fabric of his underwear. Laughing darkly, Gabriel pulls him down to kiss him, clasping the back of his neck, fingers tangled in sweat-wet strands of hair. It’s messy, much too slick, noses clashing before Jack tilts, shifts his weight, gets a hand around the back of Gabriel’s head. He pulls them upward, arching his back into Gabe’s body, and lets his head drop to the floor with a sharp _clunk_.

  Gabriel flinches with a shout, pain splintering from the back of his head, and swings his hips in reflex, throwing Jack’s weight to the side. Jack clamps his thighs around his torso, and Gabe is forced to fall with him, pinned in a tight curl as Jack rolls, tries to flip them. He’s grunting with every breath, but Gabriel hooks an arm beneath his knee and breaks the grip on his abdomen, again throwing Jack across the floor with a yelp.

  He bares his teeth. Jack is grinning, wild and fierce, and he laughs back, shifts to crouch, fists hanging ready. The back of his head is hot and pounding, and there’s a bruise starting to colour the line of Jack’s jaw a shade darker than his skin.

  “Come on,” Gabriel says, voice low, panting fast. Jack eyes him, tips his weight from foot to foot. “Come get me.”

  And Jack smiles, like training room 2B is the top of the world and not a small corner of a military base outside Zurich, and braces himself. “Make me.”

  Gabriel lunges. He collides with Jack’s chest in a scrum, shoulders him onto his back foot, but Jack stays tight, grabs for his arms. One bare leg hooks behind Gabriel’s knee and he trips backward, Jack at his neck.

  Lips find skin and Jack’s kissing his throat, sucking hard, toppling them to the floor where he again nudges between Gabe’s thighs. Gabriel pulls their hips to meet and Jack groans against his jugular, digging his teeth in to the swelling bruise. His hands slip on Jack’s waist, Gabriel dipping fingers down the curve of his spine and into his underwear, over the curve of his ass. He grinds upward, tears Jack’s head away from his neck to demand another kiss.

  It’s fast, rough. Gabriel claws at the swell of Jack’s ass, swallows his chuckle, Jack’s hand scraping down over his stomach. He’s in basketball shorts, Lakers, taut over his groin, and Jack wastes no time in taking the weight of him in his palm, fanning his fingers to grope for Gabe’s balls.

  Thick legs wrap around Jack’s hips, the only warning before Gabe is tipping their weight again, driving him into the floor. Jack baulks, unfurling one leg to knee Gabriel hard in the ribs, get a foot flat against his stomach and kick, drive his heel in deep.

  “Fuck-” Gabriel skids, lands on his shoulder. He curls inward, hands scrabbling on the floor, clumsy with sweat. Jack’s sitting up, rebalancing, and Gabriel snatches at his ankle before he can find his feet, yanks him back toward him by the foot.

  “Oh, you fucker-” Jack’s voice dies in his throat, Gabriel crashing their mouths together and clambering over him, hands on his hips, hunching into Jack’s ass-

  Jack rips out a handful of his hair. The kiss becomes a bite and Gabriel makes a noise like a trodden-on cat, shoulders collapsing as he ducks his head away from the fist at his scalp. He brings a knee up, leans heavy to pin Jack’s thigh. Jack rolls.

  He falls flat on his front and Jack is over him in a second, grinding his hips on Gabriel’s ass. The friction makes him whine, arch his back, push into the crook of Jack’s pelvis. Jack’s laughing, squeezing Gabe’s ass cheek. “You gonna beg me, big man?”

  Gabriel growls, biting at the flesh of his own forearm, before he’s reaching back for Jack’s arm, twisting as he pulls. He heaves Jack over to the side, sending him tumbling across the floor mat like a particularly terrible gymnast.

  Jack blinks. The ceiling stares back at him.

  “What was that, pretty boy?” Gabriel appears in his field of vision, and they’re kissing again, Jack breathing hard through his nose. His teeth pull at Gabe’s lip with every kiss and _re_ kiss, every change of angle, and he arches to wrap both legs tight around Gabriel’s bare waist, skin slipping, dragging, hot with friction. “Something about begging?”

  Jack moans, Gabriel’s hand on his thigh, searching higher. He braces, clenches his stomach muscles, and then shoves Gabe backwards, pulling insistently on the curls at the nape of his neck. Gabriel lands on his elbow with a shuddering whack, curses.

  “Gabe-” He surges back upright and sits, drops all his weight, hauls Jack’s hips into his lap. “God, you’re fucking hard.”

“Not just me, you’re just as bad,” Gabe says, groans as Jack rolls, drags his ass over the firm press of Gabriel’s cock, still beneath two layers of fabric. They kiss again, lips clumsy, tired, breathless. Jack moves to his neck, sucking more bruises.

“If simple sparring-” His voice breaks on a rumbling moan as Gabriel bucks upward. “Is enough to do this to you.”

  Gabriel laughs, grabs hold of the scruff of Jack’s neck and heaves them sideways, grabbing for Jack’s underwear. Jack sprawls, leans back on his shoulders. Legs swing out wide, and Jack throws his hips high in a positively ridiculous, acrobatic shoulder stand, to catch Gabriel’s neck between his thighs.

  The momentum throws them over Gabriel’s centre of balance, and he falls heavily on his back, Jack’s legs crushing the air from his throat.

  “Then I hate to think what you’re like on actual missions,” Jack says, idle, as if he’s not grinding his ass into Gabriel’s chin. He squeezes, watches the blood flush beneath his thighs.

  Two taps against the floor and Jack shifts backward, Gabriel gasping air even as he bucks up into Jack’s back, hands slipping on skin shining with sweat. Colour floods back into Gabe’s cheeks and he’s pulling Jack down into another kiss, more tongue than lips.

  “I’m dedicated,” Gabriel says, more of a whisper, throat cracking. “Always firm. But fair.”

  Jack laughs into his mouth, breathless. “You got the-”

“’S’in the bag. Fuck it, do it dry.”

“We’re not doing it _dry_.”

“Then use spit! _Fuck_ , you prissy bitch.”

  Jack snaps upright, balances up on his knees, hovering over Gabriel’s hips to remove any chance of friction. He sucks on his tongue a second, and Gabriel only realises what he’s doing a second too late.

  Jack spits at him. The glob of saliva hits Gabriel’s cheek, a sliver too close to his eye, foamy and dribbling sideways over his cheekbone before he swats at his face, wipes it with the back of his bandaged hand. He gapes, and Jack glares back at him, licking his bottom lip.

  “Oh you’re fucking dead, Morrison.” Gabriel surges upward, aims a jab at Jack’s jaw, crashing his elbow into his ribs on the rebound. Jack skitters, dodges, smacks the back of his hand into every punch before Gabriel throws them over, crashes their lips together.

  Jack bites him, folds his thighs around Gabe’s hips, who just grinds out a rhythm with the friction. “Fucking filthy,” Gabe says, hand in his own shorts, jerking on his cock. “Filthy little farmboy, I’m going to fuck you into the floor. I can’t believe you just-”

“Gabriel, get the fucking lube!” Unfurling his legs, Jack shoves him backward and off. Gabriel clambers to his feet, grumbling in hissing Spanish as he lopes across the room, ungainly with the lack of blood pulsing anywhere except his cock, leg hair damp with sweat, the muscles in his thighs shivering. He looks a sight.

  There are two gym bags by the door and he snatches at one like it has personally offended him, scattering fresh footwraps, one bottle of blue water, several blister packs of Aspirin. Jack rolls to his knees like a stretching cat, plants them shoulder-width apart and drags one eager hand down over the swell of his ass. Presenting, like an animal in heat.

  Gabriel eyes him, casts a cursory glance through the glass panels on the door before hurrying back over, unable to care that they’ve already exceeded their allotted hour in the training room. Anyone comes in, they’re getting an eyeful of Commander Morrison bouncing on his dick. That’s fine with him.

  “You look like a slutty dog,” Gabriel says, barging between Jack’s open thighs. Jack levels a glare at him.

“I’ll kick you right in your lopsided hairy balls, Gabriel Reyes.”

  There’s a laugh, rumbling and only a little bit choked, as Gabriel paws at Jack’s hips, pulls down his underwear and smooths his palm over his pale ass. “Gonna beg me, pretty boy?” Jack wiggles, trying to scoot backwards. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, legs too sweaty to get any real purchase on the floor, bound by the briefs round his knees.

  “If you ask nicely.”

  Gabriel spreads his ass, runs two lubed fingers over Jack’s hole in a prying spiral, the skin deep pink. The open bottle rolls on the mat. His muscles twitch, Jack clenching as Gabriel pushes his first knuckles inside, two fingers at once. Jack muffles his groan in the crook of his arm. The burn is familiar, hardly new anymore, but his thighs still tremble with the weight of it, the sharpness in the base of his spine.

  “You got a condom?” Jack asks, and Gabriel can’t help but snort.

“No I don’t got a condom Jack, you queen. We’re not teenagers; I didn’t come here to fuck your ass.”

  Jack twists round, grants him a look of what can only be called disgusted disbelief. “What, like I’m balls deep in every white boy here?” Gabe asks. “Who am I playing with but you, you senile old-”

“What the fuck kind of man carries lube but not condoms?”

“Hey, fuck you, chafing is a real prob-”

  Jack throws his weight backwards. He collides with Gabriel chest-to-back, snaps his head back into Gabriel’s face and sends him collapsing to the floor with a groan through gritted teeth. Gabriel tries to grab him, but Jack slips off him, settles on his knees a little way away. Smirking, he unravels the bandages wrapped around his right hand, slips two bared fingers underneath him, and picks up where Gabriel left off.

  “Pity,” Jack says, in the tone of someone who hasn’t an ounce of pity in his entire body, watching Gabriel roll around on the floor with his hands over his face. “I guess I’ll just do it myself then, huh.” He works his fingers past the middle knuckles, bites his lip, arches his back. Presentation.

  Gabriel shakes dizziness from his vision, lumbers to the centre mat on his hands and knees, too much effort to get up and walk. There’s blood under his nose. He smears it with the wraps on his hand, sniffs, crowds back into Jack’s space, his shorts pulled lopsided on his hips, tight with the bulge of his crotch. “That wasn’t funny,” he says, and Jack laughs.

“Mhm, it was pretty funny.”

“Jack, let me-”

“You gonna play nice?”

  This time, Gabriel laughs, softer. Jack slows, squeezing another finger past his asshole with a high-pitched noise, breathing hard the scent of sweat, air thick with it. “You know me, sunshine,” Gabriel says, laying a gentle hand on Jack’s thigh, able to feel the heat rolling off him. “I can be nice.”

  Jack’s back is curved, concave and hovering still, sweat beading in the dip of his spine. He works his fingers faster, twisting his wrist. “C’mon Jack.” Gabriel shifts up onto his knees, starts palming the front of his Lakers shorts with his free hand. “Let me have you.”

  Jack takes a shuddering breath. “You want it?”

“Fuck, yes. Let me-”

  Jack cants his hips weakly forward, rising up on his knees. He lets his mouth fall open around a moan, and Gabriel notices the angle of his wrist, the way he curls inside himself. One of his eyes opens, and Jack watches him, smiling airy with the expression on Gabe’s face. He raises one eyebrow.

  “Let me fuck you,” Gabe says. He yanks his shorts down to his knees, underwear too, wrapping his hand around his cock and shuffling closer. The bottle of lube lies on the mat beside Jack, and Gabe grabs for it, letting it run between his fingers as he jerks himself, deliberately slow. “Jack, I want-”

  He’s knocked to the floor again, breath slammed out of him as Jack shoves him. Jack’s laughing, batting at his hand. “You are so _slow_ today! I could’ve killed you a hundred fucking times already,” Jack says, and straddles Gabriel’s hips, angling his cock until the head presses against his asshole.

  Gabriel groans, holds onto Jack’s hip. “Maybe I’m- Fuck, _Jack_.” Jack sinks onto him. The heat is oppressive, swallowing him, and Gabriel whines high in his throat. “ _Distracted_.”

  Jack’s pace starts fast, shallow. Hands on Jack’s hips, Gabriel jerks up to meet each movement, palms slipping on wet skin. He digs his fingers in, nails biting into Jack’s ass, and there’s a _clunk_ as his head hits the floor, damp curls falling into his eyes as he watches Jack ride him, notes the strain in his thigh muscles, the clenching of his abs.

  It’s good, but not enough.

  Gabriel brings his knees up behind Jack’s back, plants his feet. He tips them upright and then over, Jack skidding to the floor, hands too sweaty to hold on. “ _Gabriel_ -” Jack’s heels slide across the floor, Gabriel pulling him by the hips to meet him in the middle as he snaps forward, groaning low and hungry.

  Jack glares, bucks his hips. He arches backward. Gabriel snatches for him, but Jack is faster, fixing the ball of one foot to Gabriel’s sternum. He kicks, hard, and Gabriel hits the floor with a string of curses.

  Jack’s on his knees in a second, ready for the counter as it comes, Gabriel throwing a punch to his head. It misses, Jack ducks, lands a hit on Gabriel’s inner elbow that knocks his arm backward. Scrabbling back to balance, Gabriel snaps forward with the other fist, cracking into Jack’s unprotected jaw. He blanches, having to catch himself on both hands before his chest hits the floor.

  Gabriel’s knee collides with his bent stomach and his hands are round Jack’s waist, hauling his hips back into place as Jack goes to his knees, Gabe’s cock sliding slick and hot between his thighs. There’s a knee pushing him open, shoving into position, hand tight on the back of his neck. “Gabriel, fuck-”

  Gabriel’s hand presses into his windpipe. His neck is crushed into the soft foam of the floor mat, cheek rubbed raw and angry as Gabriel slips back inside him and resumes, punishing quick.

  Jack makes a desperate noise, barely enough air to make a sound at all, swipes backward to try to grab at Gabriel’s thighs. His nails rake across burning skin and Gabriel swears at him, thrusting hard enough to knock Jack’s knees apart. The swell of Jack’s ass starts to blush red, the backs of his thighs where Gabriel slams into him, the bunched flesh beneath his hands.

  His vision starts to blur, and Jack digs his nails into the soft material of the floor, certain he could rip it from the floorboards if he wanted. He thwacks the back of his knuckles, two beats.

  Gabriel’s hand finally lets up. Air floods into Jack’s lungs and he pitches with the rush of it, a groan like a drowning man breaching the surface of the water, Gabriel’s hands the only thing keeping him upright and moving with the rhythm. He whimpers, moans into the floor, his head snapping back as Gabriel instead grabs a handful of his hair and fucks him much too hard, sliding sweat-slick on his knees.

  He’s not got enough breath to speak, but Gabriel is chanting, murmuring Jack’s name and reams of stilted Spanish he doesn’t have a hope of understanding. Jack’s cock leaks on the floor beneath them, and Gabriel closes a clammy fist around the head, Jack swearing and trying weakly to keep up.

  “Gabriel- Gabriel, let me- I need-”

“Jack-”

  Gabe comes first. His thrusts stutter, staccato sharp, and he arches his back, spilling inside Jack with a long, drawn out cry. He jerks his hips with every pulse, pressure tight in his muscles before it releases, and he hunches over Jack’s back. His fist closes over Jack’s weeping cock, too hot, too tight, and Jack bucks weakly through his own peak, pleasure building and gushing with one low groan, like water through a dam.

  Cum paints the floor, Gabriel tugging Jack’s cock too hard but just right, every faltering movement of his hips spilling another drop, another spurt. Jack swears and waves his hand, drags his nails on the floor, and finally goes still.

  Gabriel lets his hips go. Jack slips on his knees. He pitches, punch drunk, sinks onto his side as Gabriel pulls out and settles his weight back on his heels.

  There's not enough air, too thick with sweat and heat, and Gabriel shuts his eyes as he comes down from the high, the elastic waistband of his Lakers shorts biting into his knees, just enough to annoy. He shuffles forward, pulls them up around his wet cock and slips on the floor, clumsy, head too heavy.

  Jack is curled, as if sleeping, but his eyes are wide open, watching Gabriel’s every move. They match the blue of the floor mat, and, idly, Gabriel wonders why he’s never noticed that before. He’s forever caught by the translucent blonde in his eyelashes, the spatter of freckles like diluted tawny paint across his cheeks. He muses that Jack hardly ever looks so beautiful, as when he’s just had his ass fucked.

  “Gonna need a hand,” Jack says, whisper quiet, unfurling his legs to shift gingerly upright. He wiggles, muscles twitching their protest as cum slips viscous from his ass, the sensation never something he’ll get used to.

  Gabriel slots their fingers together. Their palms are clammy, unpleasant and cold, but he strokes his thumb over the heel of Jack’s hand, soft enough to tickle. Jack kneels a little closer, and wipes the blood crusting beneath Gabriel’s nose with the knuckle of his index finger, flaking it off in dark layers. It clings to the bristled hair on his lip, stings as it pulls the skin.

  “Ow,” Gabriel says, and Jack smiles, presses a kiss where his finger had been.

“You give as good as you get.”

“Mm…” Gabriel kisses him, slow and swaying. “I have to,” he says. “You’d beat my ass if I didn’t.”

  Jack chuckles, kneels up slightly to pull his underwear up from where it had tangled around his knees, skin still shivering. He casts a glance toward the training room door, wonders if they can get away with another hour, secluded, so far from intangible concept, like duty, and responsibility. The room is hot, thick with the smell of them, and there’s still a matter of the floor to clean-

  Gabriel kisses him again. He squeezes their joint hands.

  “Anytime,” Jack says, smiling, tired against his lips. “Round two?”

“Give me a second,” says Gabriel, rolling his eyes. Jack’s got the makings of a spectacular black eye, nebulous purple creeping from a swollen cheek, and he’s sure he looks no better, nose crunching with every movement of his muscles, the back of his head feeling hot and sore. It doesn’t matter. They look good in each other. “Then you’re going down.”


End file.
